


“No, no, it’s my treat.”

by AutisticWriter



Series: One Hundred Ways to Say "I love you." [3]
Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: 100 Ways to Say I Love You Writing Challenge, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Cole Phelps, Diners, During Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Quintuple Drabble, Sick Character, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28094433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: Herschel isn’t feeling well, and Cole tries to help.
Relationships: Herschel Biggs/Cole Phelps
Series: One Hundred Ways to Say "I love you." [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007577
Kudos: 3





	“No, no, it’s my treat.”

Slowly, Herschel washes his hands, refusing to look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Regardless, he catches a glimpse of his face, and grimaces at his puffy, bloodshot eyes and waxy, clammy skin. He really looks awful, huh?

Still not trusting his legs to keep him upright, Herschel takes a very slow walk out of the bathroom and back into the loud, chaotic diner. Although he went through here a few minutes ago, this is his first time actually paying attention to his surroundings, such as the garbage playing on the jukebox and the intense aroma of coffee.

After waking up feeling awful, it took a few hours for Herschel to give in—which he did by throwing his guts up into a trash can only a block away from the latest arson crime scene, in front of at least a dozen people. Cole did his best to help, offering him a handkerchief and a mint candy to take the taste away, but that didn’t change his unsettled guts and overwhelming embarrassment. He somehow made it through the rest of the investigation, only to get sick again all over the sidewalk when Cole pulled over in time. And with this diner so close by, Cole suggested he use their bathroom to clean up, and have a seat somewhere cool and not as nausea-inducing at the car with Cole behind the wheel.

Anyway, a still nauseated but feeling a bit better Hershel spots Cole sat in one of the booths, who notices Hershel a second later, waving him over in a gesture that makes most of the room look at him and Herschel cringe on his behalf. Cole can be sweet when he tries, but his social skills are dreadful.

“Herschel,” Cole says, smiling and still oblivious to how waving at someone like that is just… not how social skills work. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks,” Herschel mumbles, voice weak and very hoarse from vomiting so much. He slides into the opposite seat, slumping as far back as he can, and sighs. “Sorry ‘bout all this.”

“It’s fine,” Cole says. “Everyone gets sick. Just… are you feeling better?” he asks, his smooth detective aura faltering as his fear at seeing Hershel in such a state shines through.

Hershel chuckles weakly. “Quite a bit. Though if this carries on… I’m gonna take tomorrow off.”

“Good idea. Oh, I forgot. Here.” Cole points at the table, where two cups of black coffee and a glass of water sit. He slides one coffee and the water towards Herschel and says, “These are for you.”

“Oh, thanks, Cole,” Herschel says, reaching into his pocket. “How much do I owe ya?”

“No, it’s on me.”

Herschel’s sore stomach jolts at the show of affection, but shakes his head in return. “C’mon Cole, you don’t haveta—”

“No, no, it’s my treat,” Cole says like Herschel is the stubborn one. “I insist.”

“Oh, fine,” Herschel mutters, taking a long sip of water. “Thanks.”

Cole chuckles, smiling. “No problem.”


End file.
